


Patron Saint of Lost Causes

by thrakaboom



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: Catholic Imagery, Demon AU, Demon Dick Grayson, Father Todd AU, Fic Exchange, Jason Todd is a Priest, M/M, Minor Violence, Past Relationship(s), Referenced Cult of Blood, Religious Guilt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-23
Updated: 2018-01-23
Packaged: 2019-03-08 11:26:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13457268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thrakaboom/pseuds/thrakaboom
Summary: They say if you sell your soul to the devil once, you're all in. Father Todd learns that when comes certain demons dying may not change that.





	Patron Saint of Lost Causes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kiwiliko (kukoo)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kukoo/gifts).



> This is a gift for kiwilikio for a cancelled JAYdick Winter Exchange. I had this done, so I figured I might as well post it. If it's recipient likes it, I may add a second chapter. 
> 
> Kiwilikio, I hope you like it!

It was halfway through the sermon that he arrived, and the guilt bloomed in Jason’s chest when he saw him. For just a moment he could see the horns, the tail, the gold and hellfire. Then, he was just looking at an attractive man, quietly taking off his blue pea coat as he took a seat in the last pew as if he was just seeking shelter from the snow outside. Jason clutched his pulpit and felt the eyes of Saint Jude and Saint Anthony on him from the paintings that lined the wall. His congregation had noticed that he faltered but he went back to his preaching as if nothing had happened- avoiding the direction of the man in the blue pea coat. Even avoiding his gaze did nothing to help the hollow of his chest and the almost forgotten whispers of the past.

The man stayed seated as the rest of the congregation took communion and said their goodbyes. Jason wished them well as he shook hands, offered his prayers and guidance to struggling families, answered questions about that day’s sermon and his health. All the while, he felt a weight over his heart, a black cloud over his church. The last of the parish left so only Jason, the man, and a few forgotten mittens remained.   
  
“That was a lovely sermon, lamb,” the man said, sweet as honey as he stood and slunk over to where Jason was cleaning up the remains of that day’s communion. He was uncommonly attractive with silky black hair and high cheekbones. He stood a few inches shorter than Jason, but the shadow he cast was much larger. “You always had a way with words. Sebastian Blood never did truely let you take advantage of it.”   
  
At the name, Jason froze. His suspicion had been confirmed. “You know Brother Blood?”   
  
The man pouted, moving to perch on the altar. He pulled a knee up, resting his head on it. “Did you really not recognize me in this flimsy human form?”   
  
Of course Jason had recognized him, _of course_ he had. He could die a thousand times, be lost in an endless void with no sense of his own self and still recognize him. But there had been a possibility it wasn’t him, and Jason had clung to it. 

“I’ll always recognize you, Dick,” Jason confessed, hanging his head in shame. When he saw his reflection in the communion wine it was the blood soaked, blissful face of his former self that stared back. That had always been one of Dick’s favorite tricks.  
  
The demon smiled with all pointed teeth and his human form fell away in a burst of blue and black flame. The silken black hair and high cheek bones remained, framed by large black ram’s horns on either side of his head, pierced in gold. He looked cast in bronze, other than the blue chevron across his chest. He spread his leathery wings out, wingspan nearly knocking down an idol of the Virgin Mary. His forked tail twitched playfully. Jason found himself grateful Dick wasn’t nude. Seeing him in all his demonic glory was compromising enough. He couldn’t let himself slip, he couldn’t lose himself again to blood and mania.

“Human bodies are so stifling,” Dick said conversationally, stretching like he had been confined to a box all day. His joints popped, echoing throughout the church. “I don’t understand how you’re able to stand living your whole life in them, no wings…”

“Why are you here?” Jason asked, face cold as he stood to stare into Dick’s pure blue eyes. He couldn’t help think Dick looked like the angel he once thought he was while he was framed by the altar pieces, as though all the painted figures were praying to him. On the wall, the crucified Jesus looked almost forgotten. Jason felt another pang of guilt and he crossed himself, saying a quick prayer to beg forgiveness for his sins.  
  
“You’ve been neglecting your duties, lamb,” Dick reached to cradle Jason’s face in his hand, claws digging into the flesh of his cheek, thumb moving to run over Jason’s lower lip. Jason closed his eyes and shuddered. “Doesn’t your new church say acedia is a sin?”   
  
Jason finished a mental prayer for strength, for the ability to resist, for help.  “I’m Catholic,” he said finally. “We’ve said a lot of things are sins.” He looked at the painting of Saint Jude over Dick’s shoulder, pleading with it as he knew himself to be a lost cause.   
  
The demon bellowed in laughter, a cackling, crowing, _musical_ sound. The echo made the sound envelop the room, drowning out Jason’s thoughts. Dick showed both rows of teeth in a grin, cocking his head to one side. He squeezed Jason’s face, dragging his claws down his cheek and drawing blood. It dripped down onto the white collar of Jason’s cassock. Jason couldn’t help but feel _defiled_ , just as much as if Dick had taken him right here. Some old, forgotten, Trigon-worshipping instinct of his made him stick out his tongue to lap up his own blood.   
  
He had forgotten how good this feeling was.   
  
“Now there’s the man that was sacrificed to me,” Dick crooned, gently removing his claws from Jason’s flesh. “I missed you ever since you came alive again.”   
  
He looks like he has a halo, Jason thought, blinking in the slow way of those devout to the Cult of Blood did after bleeding themselves in worship. The lamp behind Dick’s head wreathed him in a golden glow- angelic. It was hard to imagine the archangels this beautiful. The thought of a servant of God, a real god and not Trigon, touching him as Dick did brought Jason back to the here and now. Guilt weighed heavily on his shoulders. He would never be relieved of his sins. He wished he could fall to his knees and pray for forgiveness. He wished he had never gotten involved in the Cult of Blood.   
He wished for many things.  
  
“Come home, Jason.” The demon’s bravado faded for just a moment. His shoulders slumped just a little, and the fire behind his eyes flickered. He looked tired. He looked lonely.   
  
“I can’t.” Jason found himself sounding more authoritative than he felt. “I have a congregation. I have- I have a life. Trigon and the Church of Blood are not a part of it.”   
  
Dick stood, wings folding in. He took Jason’s hands in his. His skin felt like silk. He took Jason’s hand to his mouth and kissed it. The kiss felt like a brand but left no mark. Dick had never held Jason like this, never kissed him so innocently in all the times they touched in Jason’s death and time in the cult. “Have dinner with me. Just you and I. No one else. Nothing else.”   
  
Against his better judgement, Jason responded “Yes.” 


End file.
